The room went dead quiet. A couple women muttered,“I knew it,”and one outright laughed, bitter and sharp. One of the patched brothers spat his drink back into his glass.
“You think anyone here actually respects you? You don’t have any respect. They’re laughing because they’ve all seen you for what you are—cheap, desperate, and dangerous to trust.”
Silence swallowed the room, thick and unbroken. Then the chair beside me scraped. Jay lowered himself into it, close enough that the heat off his skin bled through the cold in my chest.
His voice was rough when he asked, “You okay?” His hand took mine and rubbed softly at the bruising on it.
I met his eyes and shrugged, trying to keep my tone steady. “As okay as I can be. Could’ve been worse. Are you?” I asked, noting his tired eyes, the flecks of blood on his face that he’d missed when he’d gone to shower.
He nodded, but I could see how tight his jaw was, how hard this was on him too. He caught my eye and gave a small, tired smile.
Without a word, he reached for my other hand, rough, steady, grounding. The warmth was a balm I didn’t know I needed.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For everything. For leaving you behind . . .”
I shook my head, squeezing his hand. “You did what you had to do. I’m here. We’re here.”
He pulled me close, enough that I could feel the steady beat of his heart against mine.
In that moment, all the chaos felt miles away. My pulse steadied under the pressure of his grip. For a split second, I almost leaned into him, almost let my head fall against hisshoulder and let the world fade. The urge scraped, too close to begging, so I sat straighter instead. I wouldn’t give him that.
“Come with me?” he asked, standing and holding out his hand.
Before I could answer, Gabby interrupted. “Oh, of course, she gets the invitation.” She turned, her gaze sweeping over the other women like they were her audience. “Guess this is the new standard for impressing the President, show up wearing your dead brother’s hoodie and look lost.”
A murmur ran through the room, but it wasn’t the agreement she wanted. One woman snorted, another whispered something to her friend, and Maria set her coffee cup down hard enough to make Gabby’s head snap around.
Jay’s jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he strode over, grabbed Gabby by the arm, and with a forceful twist of his body, threw her against the wall near the exit. “Why are you still here?” he yelled.
She stumbled, shocked and shrieking, before he shoved her out the door.
The women watching flinched, the room falling silent. Jay’s gaze swept across the remaining allies of hers. “All of you walk too. Now.”
He came back to me, taking my hand once again, but didn’t move until each of Gabby’s girls followed her. I felt my pulse start to slow as the tension in the room lifted, but my hand stayed in his. The tremor in my fingers steadied under the pressure of his grip.
The door slammed shut behind Gabby, her shriek silenced with it. For a moment the clubhouse held its breath. Then Maria picked up her coffee again, voice quiet, but carrying. “About time someone took the trash out.”
A ripple of laughter broke through the silence. A couple brothers nodded, muttering agreements under their breath.
Maria’s eyes found mine, warm and steady. She raised her cup in a small salute. “You’re not alone here,mija. Don’t forget that.”
Jay’s grip never left my hand as he pulled me down the hall, past the stares, past the whispers. He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t acknowledge the brothers who straightened in their seats as we passed.
He pulled me up the stairs, pushed open a door, and tugged me inside. It clicked shut behind us with a finality that made my heart jump. The room was quiet, with a stripped-down bed, dresser, and the faint smell of smoke and leather. But the weight in the air wasn’t the room—it was him.
He let go of my hand, and my skin felt bare without his grip. “This can be your room. You know mine is next door, if you... need me.”
“Thanks.” I wrapped my arms around myself.
He turned, broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, his gaze locked on me. “You’re scared,” he said.
“Every damn second,” I admitted.
His jaw flexed, but instead of anger, his eyes softened. “Me too.”
Hearing him admit his fear made something sharp hit me in my chest. The words rose before I could stop them, the ones I swore I’d never say.Stay. Don’t shut me out again.I bit them back, hard, because if I asked and he walked away again, I wasn’t sure I could take it.
Then his hand came up, rough fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His knuckles lingered against my cheek, and my chest ached with how badly I wanted to lean into that touch.
